Rightful Heir
by LadyMystiqueShiroe
Summary: Takes place after Tyrion's trial. Knowing that his resentful son is the only chance he has left at a proper Lannister heir, a panicked Tywin gives Tyrion the chance to escape death and claim redemption. Marry a Tyrell and produce his heir, reclaiming his rightful place within the family. TyrionxOC
1. Intro

A/N:Hello! Here is a brief intro excerpt to the story. I am new to the series and fell in love with Tyrion's character, I hope I can do him justice. I love all kinds of feedback to improve, so please review and enjoy!

* * *

With the death of his grandson and Jamie's place in the guard, Tywin knew that his chances of an heir was dwindling; his once powerful family was crumbling, as much as he tried to deny it to himself. He feared for the fate of his bloodline and with his son Tyrion's recent trial a disaster, and his outrageous outburst, there was little chance of redemption now. In fact, he was awaiting execution, as the duel deciding his fate did not go as he planned.

_That is unless…No. That couldn't be possible._

The more he sat and pondered, the wheels in his head began to turn, despite his deformity, Tyrion had a will to survive and perhaps… in the face of death would bend to his wishes? He then remembered the Tyrell's, the family in which he had tried to gain alliance with and failed due to the failed marriage of Joffrey and Margaery. If he remembered correctly, Lord Mace's youngest… she had just become of age the previous spring, she was young and fertile…could she give him a healthy, strong grandson?

Until his most recent, failed marriage to Sansa Stark, Tyrion spent his time drunkenly fucking countless whores. Would he take to a proper, young wife? One that was not tainted with a shameful family name…perhaps the arrangements could be made.

Either way, Tywin knew his son craved his approval, as much as he despised him…he knew that if given the opportunity to do right by his family, and with the leverage of impending death hanging over his shoulders, perhaps he may just take the bait.

Time would only tell, and Tywin's wrinkled lips morphed into a crooked smirk as he pondered.


	2. Undesirable Plans

A/N:Hello! Here is chapter one!

* * *

"Really Cissy, what on earth are we going to do with you," the embarrassed sigh came from Margaery Tyrell, the second to youngest child of Lord Mace, Ruler of the large and House of Tyrell, a very wealthy ruling family over the seven kingdoms.

"You cannot tell me you didn't laugh when you saw the look on that man's face when the horse reared up on him like that!" the younger girl piped up, with a contagious giggle. The youngest child of Lord Mace, Celia had just turned sixteen the previous spring, there was a rather large celebration, as it was something their father took pride in. While having two daughters did nothing for his immediate bloodline, the alliances he could form by arranging marriages was just as valuable. With the crumbling of Margaery's marriage to Joffrey, Lord Mace was quick to make other plans involving his last female heir. Thankfully, he had gotten worn of Tywin Lannister and it seemed the gods had smiled upon him.

Margaery only scoffed, it was so like her. "You're sixteen now, childish tricks like that will not win you favor among the suitors. You are of age to be taking a husband, you should be focused on that."

"I'm sure that is exactly what father expects me to do," she replied.

While they were very close as children, as they aged, they grew apart not only in appearance but in personality. Margaery was the pretty brunette with eyes like vipers, she was poised and help much interest and skill in negotiation and politics. If anyone had the potential of making a great Queen, it was her. Her father knew it, and so did their grandmother, which was why she was favored. Unlike Margaery, Celia took a bit longer to mature, less serious and free-spirited. Her freckled pale face and dirty blonde curls that were always a mess did not make her a proper lady. For many years, she resented Margaery and rebelled, finding more amusement in games and talking with the horses, instead of dinner parties and the like. She was quite sure that her father would preferred if she had been born with a penis.

"I'm sure your stunt didn't go unnoticed. What I don't understand is why he had to drag me into it as well."

Celia rolled her eyes as they made their way to their father's chambers, where the elderly man sat, resting his pen quill and putting aside his parchment as soon as the girls stepped foot inside. He couldn't help but smile, however, he seemed focused, knowing that he wanted to get straight to business.

"Come sit," he invited with a gesture of his hand.

Celia followed hesitantly after Margaery, "Father, if this is about spooking the guard's horse...I can say-."

She was instantly shushed, and Lord Mace spoke up again, "I have not called for this meeting about petty affairs. The only reason Margaery is here is to be a witness, because this matter mostly involves you, my youngest. As you know, your sixteenth year is upon you...and I have been recently exchanging letters with the House of Lannister, Lord Tywin to be more precise."

She was instantly confused, Lord Tywin? Margaery was previously engaged to his grandson Joffrey, before he met a bitter end. " I have no business with the man, it is Margaery who has dealings with the Lannisters...what does this have to do with me?" she asked curiously. She had a sinking feeling about where this conversation was going and she didn't like it, her chest was tightening and her words were becoming defensive.

"Let him speak!" Margaery interjected harshly.

"As you both are aware we have been seeking an alliance with the Lannister House for quite some time; in the beginning, it was Margaery's engagement to the late King Joffrey that would have sealed our truce. However, due to tragic turn of events, the marriage is null in void and we are back again where we started. Lord Tywin is a very powerful man and we are only second to their wealth...if we could once more create that bond, just think of the prosperity and power that would be bestowed upon us. Now, seeing as Lord Tywin has yet lost another means to an heir, he has means to secure another marriage. His son Tyrion is the only viable option and seeing as his recent marriage to Sansa Stark was a disaster, he has no doubts that it can be arranged."

This was...absolutely incredible. Celia didn't know whether to burst out laughing or crying, or both. It seemed as though luck was really on her side. While she was never truly a vengeful person, what fun it would be to watch Margaery head into yet another ridiculous marriage and this time, to an even worse suitor! Instead of the barbaric Joffrey, she would now be paired with Tywin's dwarf son, Tyrion. Or the 'Imp' as some liked to ridicule him. She would keep to herself the excitement she felt and could not wait to witness this chaos. She was instantly tuned out from the chatter between her sister and father beside her.

"Are you alright? You look a bit pale," Margaery asked.

Celia instantly perked up, snapped from her daze. "No, I've never been better. So tell me, when will we be taking the journey to Casterly Rock to introduce Margaery to her new husband?"

Both of them looked equally confused.

"M-Margaery? Oh my dear, you are confused..." Mace began, chuckling in amusement.

"Cissy you misunderstand," Margaery added softly, soothing her as if she knew the words that was coming out of their father's mouth was going to upset her.

"What do you mean?"

"What I mean is, Margaery will not be engaged to Tyrion Lannister, I am making other arrangements for her as we speak. The one who will be marrying Tywin's son and the future queen of Casterly Rock, is you my dear," Mace finished with a sigh of admiration and pride.

It was as if her entire world shattered into a million pieces. Perhaps she didn't hear him right? The mantra kept playing in her mind over and over again, _she _ was going to be the one to marry Tywin's son, not Margaery. She could have just had a stroke, right then and there. Her father couldn't be serious...and to drop this on her so suddenly? Without giving her any kind of warning of choice? No, she knew her father well. The only way she was going to get out of this, is if she planned to poison Tyrion herself. She knew what an alliance with the Lannisters meant to her father and to what lengths he would go to establish such a union. Of course, the marriage couldn't have been to Jamie Lannister, the soldier whom was of average height at least, and a warrior no less. If she ever had to marry, he was the type of man that she always envisioned standing at the end of the aisle.

It took her a few moment to find words, as it felt like they were caught in her throat. She allowed a few moments to let the wave of shock fall over her.

"Come again, father?"

Margaery saw the hostility begin to bubble, so she politely motioned to excuse her sister. "Father, Cissy is confused, let me speak with her about it? I'm sure this is a bit of a shock."

Celia quickly rejected her sister's efforts to pull her from the room as she stared straight into her father's eyes, who told the maid to fetch some wine for celebration.

"Why am I only having words now? What if I have no desire to marry Twin's son?" Celia's gaze was focused and her tone harsh. She was furious, though managed to keep composure even though what she really wanted to do was scream at the both of them; her father for playing God with her life and her sister for knowing about it and not telling her.

Celia's harsh gaze was met with an equal one by Mace, "There is no **choice**. You are my daughter, a Tyrell, and have a duty to this house and family. You will do as I see fit, and I suggest you prepare yourself for a journey overseas. I've already told your handmaiden to prepare packing your things. You, your grandmother, myself and your sister will be leaving for King's Landing in approximately two weeks."

She stood there for a long time, allowing her father's words to sink in, becoming more enraged by the second. However, his body language was stern and his eyes furious. He would not back down from her and she imagined he was quite angry at her for speaking out against him to begin with. When she glanced over at a sympathetic looking Margaery, she knew there was no way he was going to change his mind.

"The arrangements have been made, Celia. Tywin is expecting you, and you will not disgrace me by behaving like an impudent child. You will obey my words and act like a proper lady."

"Does Tywin's son know?" she asked.

Mace shrugged his shoulders, "It does not matter, though I'm sure he will be most pleased. The Gods have blessed me with lovely daughters and a strong son. You are now dismissed, I will allow you to return to your previous activities and let this new information sink in."

Celia nodded and turned on her heel to leave, without another word. Her balled fists were still shaking, trembling along with her entire body. Her mind was overwhelmed, infuriated and her body was simply exhausted. As she left the room, she was stopped by a firm tug on her wrist and a pair of gentle blue eyes; they belonged to Margaery.

"Do not touch me!" Celia snapped, ripping her arm away from her.

"I didn't know it would be like this!"

"You didn't know, Margaery!? How could you sit there and allow him to say all of those things! You know that I would never want this, why did you not speak on my behalf! Joffrey couldn't make you a queen so now you are hell bent on making my life hell, is that it?!"

Margaery was silent for a few moments, hurt and her words grew softer.

"You're my sister, and of noble blood. You knew this day was coming, sooner or later, regardless of the man...you can't be free to run about as you please, Celia. You have a duty to this family, as do I. I'll be there to help you, it won't be so bad, I can promise you that."

The _man..._she remembered the stories she heard about Tyrion Lannister, the horrid scars that riddled his skin, his short limbs and odd torso. Was he even considered a man? From what she heard, he sounded like a complete monster. A monster that drank himself into stupors of sleep, and slept with so many whores it was impossible to count. He was an embarrassment to his family, why did it have to be him? She was seething, and in her moment of anger she spat hateful words, ones that she would inevitably regret later.

"You Margaery, are no sister of mine."

With that, she turned and stormed off to her room, where she would barely eat, smile or play for days, leaving a hurt Margaery behind.


	3. The Bartering

"This must be some kind of sick joke, and if it is I am not amused," mused the exhausted, dirt-ridden Tyrion Lannister. He sat in chains in a small room, which was only lit by dim candles, the walls a filthy tanned stone, with no windows or sunlight. The son of royalty was now nothing more than a prisoner, awaiting his execution as the duel which was to decide his fate did not turn in his favor. The dwarf's intense glare was focused upon the elder face of his father, Tywin, who stood before him with a stern presence. He had expected him to come mock him, spit in his face...but instead he came to negotiate compromise, to give him another chance...to live. However, with Tywin there was always a catch. For such an exchange, he had to take his place among the family, and marry a Tyrell. Judging from how his recent marriage to Sansa was a chaotic mess, he would think Tywin would have learned his lesson by now.

"This is no joke, Tyrion. My terms are quite clear, you may take my offer and take your seat at my right hand...or, await your beheading. The choice is yours, though I highly doubt even you would choose death just to spite me." While his son was resented, Tyrion was stubborn, even at the many attempts at taking his life, he always survived. Tywin's icy blue eyes were locked onto him, his gaze hard.

"How old is this one?"

Tywin paused, "Her sixteenth year had just recently passed, old enough to bear strong, healthy sons yet young enough to please the eye."

Tyrion scoffed, a bit older than Sansa had been, he would give him that, but still a child. If he could guess, she either had no idea of these arrangements or was just as unhappy about it as he was.

"Do not tempt me with a good time, Father. So let me try and piece together this piss poor excuse of a negotiation? I will be able to keep my life, in exchange, I must marry this Tyrell girl whom is just barely old enough to bleed and take my place as your loyal dog. All because you so desperately need an heir to the throne. So tell me, how much time would I have?" Tyrion replied in a sarcastic tone. No wine in all of the world could make this disaster sound even slightly appealing.

"Your engagement will be known the moment you accept, the Tyrells will be arriving in King's Landing in two weeks so that Lord Mace may legally abide to the terms. You will be introduced to your new bride, and the wedding will take place in approximately two months, giving us time to prepare. The marriage will be binding as soon as you consummate the marriage on the eve of the reception, and will be strengthened with an heir. "

Tyrion was impressed, "You waste no time do you? And what will become of Sansa?"

"That girl is of no importance anymore. Your marriage to her became null in void the moment she conspired against my grandson and fled King's Landing. Not to mention, the fact that the marriage was never consummated further confirms its illegitimacy."

Unlike his father, Tyrion held some sort of concern for his former wife, she did not deserve the hand she was dealt. However, perhaps leaving King's Landing was the best thing she could ever have done. "So it seems that I have very few options here."

"I do not wish to end your life, you are my son. However, my hands are tied in such a situation."

"Unless I bend to your will?"

Tywin was quiet, he was growing impatient, "If you choose to rot in this cell, it will not cause me lessened sleep."

Tyrion's cool demeanor and witty jokes came to an end. He was pondering his current situation and while the idea of a public confession before an execution was tempting, he had very little options. Podrick would not come for him, he had already sent him away. This time, there would be no one to bail him out and he had no desire to die under his father's rusted blade. In his mind, he went back and forth and while it physically sickened him, he knew that his only viable option was to agree to his father's terms. To live the rest of his life under the heel of Tywin, well, death just sounded easier. However, if anything, perhaps it would give him some time to devise a plan of escape. After all, time was truly the enemy here and he was running out of it quickly.

"Well, what say you Tyrion?"

"If I agree to this, I will handle the marriage in my own way, I will not tolerate you shadowing my every step or sending maids in the morning to check for evidence."

"Only within reason," Of course, both of them knew that any chance of Tywin backing off was a false hope. Still, it felt better for Tyrion to say aloud.

After a long pause and a heavy sigh, the mentally defeated Tyrion rose from his place and outreached his arms, which were bound. "I accept the agreement, I will meet the girl and marry her. However, I do not wish any harm to come to her."

"I am glad you are finally seeing reason, my son. For your rather barbaric recent display, I won't undo your chains. I will send Jamie in the morning to fetch you, that way you have time to think about the error of your ways, and how you may avoid upsetting me like this in the future. "

In that moment, Tyrion could have spit in the man's face, or speared him right through his blackened heart. However, he was already on treading on thin ice. He was almost in the clear and the thread of his fate was under strain, he did not give Tywin reason to change his mind. He wanted his life and was willing to go to any lengths to get it back, even if it meant swallowing his pride. He dropped his fists and took his place leaned against a pillar.

"I'm sure the night will prove most philosophical," Tyrion mused, sarcastically.

It was then that Tywin bid him a short farewell, leaving Tyrion to his solitude once more and with a heavy sigh, caused him to wonder how in the hell he had gotten himself into this mess and more specifically, how he was going to get himself out. His only saving grace was Jamie, who supposedly was coming for him in the morning.


	4. Ties that Bind

About a week had passed since her father's shocking news. It was rather difficult for Celia to take in, an arranged marriage with a complete stranger. During the first few days, she barely ate or smiled and some nights when the maids left her, even cried herself to sleep. Her father told her to 'stop whining' and even had the maids watch her during breakfast so she would eat, as her new husband wouldn't appreciate a sickly looking bride. In time, things got better; she knew she would never be 'happy' with the arrangements, but she managed to accept them. She never whined or complained, in fact, she didn't speak much at all...her usual zest for life had lessened and others seemed to notice. Margaery had gone out of her way to reach out to her, on more than one occasion. Their relationship was strained, but not as hostile as it had been in the very beginning.

The maids had started packing her belongings, as their journey to King's Landing was a week away. Celia was in her room, which seemed emptier by the passing day. She was trying to braid her hair, to give her some relief from the sun which was stronger than usual. One of the maids, looked over to the old carved wooden vanity where her mistress sat, while folding some of her dresses onto the bed.

"My lady, perhaps you should wear this one for your trip? You look so lovely in blue," the younger maid, Lidya suggested, looking over a particular silk beaded garment. She had made her best attempts to be helpful, but Celia only brushed her off with a stale response.

"I don't care which one it is, Lydia. Just pack all of them," she replied, groaning aloud after many failed attempts of fiddling with her long, curly locks. "Ugh! Curse this hair of mine!"

"You sound like you could use some help," the soft voice came after a small rapping on the door, and Margaery entered slowly. She smiled as the defeated Celia passed her the brush, and she pulled aside a seat. She began to brush her hair from behind, as she had done many times before when they were younger.

Celia noticed the seemingly effortless beauty of her older sister, with her silky brunette curls, silken dress and the kindness and cunning in her blue eyes. "You make it appear so easy."

Margaery pulled her curls back and taking each piece into her hands, and stared at her through the mirror. " You have marvelous curls Celia, it seems to run in our family. You just don't put in the effort to maintain them, you rarely ever did," she told her simply, working her hands through the hair to braid each section slowly.

"Sometimes I would prefer to have no hair at all," Celia replied, causing the both of them to laugh. Margaery finished the braid and tied it off with a ribbon, pausing a long time before opening her mouth to speak.

"Are you still angry with me, Cissy?"

The younger girl shook her head, "You know I cannot stay angry with you for long. Besides, the fault was not your own. The situation cannot be changed, nor controlled...and you were right. I suppose all I can do is accept it and make the best of it...though no one said I had to like it."

"We have had our fights for many years dear sister, they are just of different content as we age. Throughout our lives if I had a gold coin for every time you disowned and or said you hated me, I would be a very wealthy woman right now."

Her comment caused Celia to giggle.

"Let me ask you something, is it the situation you despise...or more the man Father chose for you?" Margaery asked out of pure curiosity.

"I'm not sure. I don't even know him Margaery, he is a stranger...that entire family, King's Landing...all of it is foreign to me. I suppose I always had this silly notion, ever since we were girls...that I would be swept off of my feet by this brave, handsome knight and he would come to take me away on his white horse. I thought, when I chose to marry, it would have been for love, or in the least, of my own volition...silly isn't it?"

Margaery hesitated, as if she was pondering some buried memory in her mind, but pushed the thoughts away. "A bit naive...but not silly. We are women, our choices are never easy, but we still are allowed to dream. Who knows, maybe not now...but in time, you could learn to love Lord Tyrion."

Celia rolled her eyes, " I highly doubt that. The man is only tall enough to reach my waist, I would have to bend down to kiss him!"

" I heard he is quite experienced with women, despite his short stature. He is a very intelligent man, there is no denying that. Would you prefer Father have paired you with a filthy blacksmith or a stable-boy? "

"Margaery, did you want to marry Joffrey?"

"There was no feelings of affection or anything of the sort, if that is what you mean. All I knew was that in marrying Joffrey, in the very least if nothing came of my ruling at least... someday my son would be King. We all know that Joffrey was a monster, perhaps his untimely end was the greatest gift the gods could bestow upon me."

Celia felt her heart sink.

"There, all done!" Margaery announced, finishing the last touch. She stood to her feet and looked to her sister, giving her a warm, comforting smile. "I know this has been hard on you, and I'm sorry for that. Just remember Cissy, you will be the future Queen of Casterly Rock...and your children, if anything else will rise much higher then you ever thought possible." As she pulled her into a quick embrace, the ever so lingering thought of having children with Tyrion Lannister was enough to make her ill.

She didn't want part of any of it, King's Landing, the wedding or what was expected of her afterward. Spending the rest of her life with a man she didn't even know, a man she would have to find a way to confide in, raise children and share a bed with.

"There isn't much time left before we must go..." Celia mentioned uncertainly.

"I will be there with you every step of the way," Margaery reassured her without hesitation.


	5. Guilty by Association

"The way I see it, you didn't exactly have a choice. It was either Father's word, or death. You worked with the cards you were dealt. In truth, it cannot be that bad. If the marriage is successful, perhaps it will get you back in his good graces." Jamie's words were bittersweet, as he was trying to be logical, though Tyrion saw no justice in the situation. Shae's betrayal at the trial still haunted him, and after what had become of Sansa, he couldn't bear being responsible for putting another child in danger, betrothed or not. He had a rather unlucky streak with women as of late.

The dwarf scoffed, "I think if I were to shit gold, even that would not change Father's opinion of me. He still looks at me with shame, and when Cersei can no longer avoid me, her words are filled with contempt."

It had been only a few weeks since his release from that awful cell. Slowly, he had integrated himself back into his former role. He was once again a lord of power and wealth, though it anything, his former sentencing made things more tense. Tywin was up to his ears in damage control and Cersei still hated the sight of him. She decided that no marriage compromise could wash away their former misunderstanding; as far as she was concerned, he poisoned Joffrey and Tyrion was certain at some point, she would find a way to make him pay.

He had no patience to deal with Cersei; Tyrion had much more important matters in mind. The servants had been hard to work for weeks, preparing the castle and a large feast for the arriving guests, who were crossing over the salt sea as they spoke. Lord Mace Tyrell and his children would be arriving in King's Landing in a matter of days and that would be when Tyrion would be introduced to his new bride. He had to be on his best behavior, he was sure, as Tywin would expect no less.

They had exchanged a few words and walked about path near the stables, as Jamie, dressed in his gilded armor, was preparing a few men and his horse for a patrol along their borders. With the arrival of their guests so close, Tywin wanted to ensure that King's Landing was secure, and their arrival would not be disturbed. In truth, Tyrion had sought out Jamie more often as of late; his brother had always been there for him and Jamie was one of the few people he could trust.

"Are you anxious?" Jamie asked curiously.

"About what...the girl? I suppose I am preparing myself for the first meeting. Somehow, I don't plan it going very smoothly. However, if my memory is correct, she is closer in age to Sansa was... less skilled in hiding the look of disgust she will have when she sets eyes upon me. It is a familiar, yet unpleasant feeling. "

Jamie's eyes softened, "Father tells me that she is less poised than Margaery, younger and more willful. She may be more apt to speak her mind, but may be easier to break into submission if need be."

Tyrion raised a brow, "The girl is a child, not a horse that is in need of _breaking in. _She may in truth, never grow to even tolerate me, never mind harbor any kind of affection. However, if I can maintain chivalry with the girl, it will make matters much easier. "

"A child that will be your Queen of Casterly Rock and someday, the mother to your heir, your son. It is not a simple business transaction or wager of war, trust me brother. She will be your wife and no marriage without some kind of affection will prosper. She will resent you and your very ruling will crumble."

"So what will you have me do with her? The Gods know I am so handsome to look at. I can shower her with gifts and fine silks, and treat her with all of the kindness in the world in court. She will smile at me and hold my hand in the public eye, but it is entirely different behind closed doors. Nothing will change her disgust when I touch her, or the turning of her stomach when she finds her swelling stomach blooming with life. I am no fool Jamie, I am well aware of how this arrangement will play out. It is best to consider it a business transaction now, to save myself unnecessary aggravation and pain later."

Tyrion's outburst was laced with anger and a tiny glimmer of agony. In a way, it made Jamie pity him in that very moment. His brother had never truly known the love of a woman, only whores who desired his wealth and a girl who married him out of force. Perhaps he was finally starting to shield his heart from any further pain; denying any possibility of affection before it could even begin. However, could Jamie blame him? Tyrion was right in a way, it was unlikely that the Tyrell girl would be any different then Sansa Stark.

"My apologies brother, I spoke out of turn."

Tyrion turned to him and smiled, "You only wished to offer words or comfort. Unfortunately, it seems that the gods ceased helping me a long time ago."

Jamie did not say anything, he only placed a hand upon his brother's shoulder in reassurance. If it was any consolation, Tyrion knew that Jamie would always be there if he needed him. It seemed as though he was going to say something else, but one of his men of the guard called out to him, beckoning for his return. He seemed hesitant, but Tyrion told him to go, that his presence was needed elsewhere. They exchanged small words and then parted ways.

Since the early ages of men, marriage for political gain was not uncommon and Tyrion Lannister found himself stuck between a rock and a hard place. In the beginning, this arrangement was a way to cheat death, a way to bide time until he found a plan to regroup...or if needed, escape. However, it would have been a lie to say that a small part of him was not drawn to the idea of a possibility, the very unlikely notion that perhaps Lord Tywin would accept him, that he would please his Father and rule over Casterly Rock and in turn, be respected by all of those who mocked and degraded him...and have the power to put to death those who refused to serve him.

Time was running out, everything had happened so rapidly. Tyrion had hoped that before this was over, he would have some type of plan, but he had eyes on him everywhere...everywhere he stepped he needed to watch his back. His return under Tywin's watch did not go without consequence. He learned to trust no one and to be extra cautious. He would be lucky if he made through the wedding without a knife in his back.

It was a dark place in his mind where that desire lay and quite often he was able to push it away, but now, with everything happening, the castle prepared as if this arrangement was a happy notion, something worth celebrating...when in the pit of his very soul, Tyrion had a terrible feeling that this marriage would be the cause of his untimely demise.


	6. First Meeting

A reassuring grip on her clammy hand brought Celia back to reality. It seemed like an eternity she had spent watching the sails of the ship blow in the wind, the lull of the temperamental waves against the hull of the ship. It was soothing and distracted her from her destination; King's Landing. The closer they got the shore, the naseous feeling in her stomach intensified.

"Isn't it grand, Cissy? Certainly fit for royalty. Look at all of the lovely banners, maybe its all for us..." Margaery swooned, rushing over to their father who seemed anxious to reach land.

All of Margaery's fussing and bliss made her want to push her overboard, though the younger girl knew that she was treading thin ice with her father already.

Celia knew she looked the part of a future Queen; her handmaiden had bathed, brushed and twisted her hair until it was tied in an intricate romantic braid, filled with ribbons, allowing her curls to hang freely. The lavender colored silk gown was simple, having only intricate beading and embroidery at the bodice. It wasn't entirely what she would have picked out for herself, feeling more like a fussed over doll than anything. However, she knew it was best to keep her mouth shut, no one seemed to bicker about her obvious aggravation.

It was supposed to be a joyous occasion; as soon as they reached harbor, she could see the decorative banners and crowds forming in the distance. However, the longer she stayed the more she felt like a prisoner, not a happy bride to be.

Everything went off without a hitch from there onward; she curtsied and smiled and used every manner that she had been taught as a child. She knew very well how to be a lady, it just felt so false. Tywin however seemed impressed and wasted no time conversing with her father, complimenting him on having such a lovely, well mannered child.

"Tyrion will be most pleased," Tywin concluded and she felt her stomach lurch again.

She followed the group past the crowds and the merchants, ignoring the peasants that stared and pointed at her. In that moment she hated the lot of them; she knew fully well the mocking gaze, as she too had become nothing more than a joke. The future bride of Tywin's dwarf son, it strengthened her father's allegiance but made her look the fool.

_"I don't care if he is pleased or not, what about what I want?" _

While the group as a whole seemed calm and poised, Celia observed the many distractions around her, the heavy stone walls and the crimson banners with a roaring lion as a sigil, the very entity of the Lannister family. She knew fully well what would happen to her if she refused, or tried to escape. If she wasn't executed first, she would be shunned from her family, shamed and stripped of any entitlements.

Everything seemed to happen in a blur after that; her head was spinning so fast that she had ignored the lulls of conversations of those around her. There was even a few times when she felt dizzy; she drank some stolen wine from before leaving home, knowing her father wouldn't give it to her willingly to calm the nerves. It wasn't until some time that she had plucked up the courage to do something she had wanted to upon arrival. She felt trapped; as if the walls of the castle meant to swallow her whole.

Perhaps it was her overactive mind, or the wine...or both, but the younger girl began to panic and when she saw her opportunity, of the nearest possible corridor, she purposefully fell behind the group of chattering nobles. She could have sworn she saw the piercing gaze of her grandmother Olenna, but to her own surprise, the elder woman ignored her and said noting. Celia soon slipped out of sight and left through the first door she found. Her trek turned into a jog, fearing that the guards would question her and soon, her gait turned into a full sprint.

She made her way past the garden and a large tower that seemed to reach as tall as the heavens themselves. Eventually, she found her way to a small barn, and judging from the snorts she heard inside, it was the knight's stables. She didn't know why she was drawn to it, but the hesitant girl had often found more comfort in animals than people in her youth, and felt the need to talk to someone who only had the ability to listen, who wouldn't judge or tell her what to do. If she had to listen to Margaery's speech about the 'duties to the family' one more time she felt as though her head would explode.

The stables were full of hay and the smell was potent, lined with tall, well muscled stallions of various colors. Yes, these horses were bred for battle, with their gilded bridles and braided tails. They represented the strength of the army and while some were more content with feeding and flicking way flies, Celia seemed to catch the attention of a chestnut colored horse with clicking noises.

"Hello there, you are a beauty aren't you?" she murmured in a low voice not to startle the creature, slowly approaching and reaching out to caress the blaze of white on it's nose. The horse seemed to respond rather quickly, leaning into her hand and Celia could have sworn the creature understood her sadness, she had never before seen such a gallant creature.

"I'm afraid I don't have anything to give you, I don't carry apples with me. My mare at home, her name is Duchess...those are her favorite. You look just about as happy to be cooped up here as I am."

Celia sighed, pausing a moment before speaking again, becoming more entranced with her conversation. Even if it was more so of her talking aloud to herself, it felt as though the animal was listening and for once, it was nice to speak her thoughts without anyone putting in their own comments.

"I'm not from here, I've traveled quite a way. I'm supposed to be getting married...to a Lannister, you probably know him well. Everyone is so quick about my engagement, no one has listened a bit to what I wanted. I feel rushed...I don't even know anything about the man, well except...you are a lot taller than he is."

She couldn't help but laugh when the horse seemed to nod in agreement, merely fiddling with the metal in its mouth.

She carried on about many things, about the wedding, her favorite things to do back at home, some things that didn't even make sense. Though when it was all said and done it felt as though a weight had been lifted from her chest. It was a relief to be able to speak her mind, even if it was in nothing more than the company of beasts.

"Well, I suppose I should be getting back now, or else Father will have a fit. It was nice meeting you, I appreciate the company." Celia spoke in a grateful tone as she stepped down from the iron gate that separated them.

There was a long silence, and when she turned to leave, a deep voice nearly scared her right out of her skin.

"His name is Colonel, he is my squire's horse. I've always thought he was much more intuitive than the rest," said a man whom Celia couldn't entirely see through the shadows of the barn, so she hesitantly stepped outside.

"Apologies, I thought I was alone," she admitted, her cheeks blushing pink with embarrassment.

"You were, up until a few moments ago. Your sister was kind enough to tell me where I might find you."

The man that came into view was dressed the part, in fine embroidered robes, but his body and limbs were shrunken, his head disproportionate to the rest of him. His curly brownish hair was a mop atop his head and inquisitive blue eyes were slightly distorted by a large scar from his nose to the right sight of his strong jawline. If the man had been taller, he may have actually been handsome, though the girl found him difficult to look at. He spoke and behaved as if he had a confidence about him, though when she looked him in the eyes, the man seemed to fluster, as if he was nervous around her.

"My apologies, I didn't mean to startle you."

She was hesitant for a long time, having a hard time lifting her eyes from the ground. She was startled and even more surprised when she saw him, for she had an idea of exactly who the man was and her heart sunk at the sight of him.

"You didn't m'lord," she lied, keeping a calm composure and a small smile.

"You are, Lord Mace's daughter, aren't you? What is your name child?"

"C-Celia, is my name, your Grace. It is an honor," she replied with a slight bow.

The man furrowed his large brow and shook his head, his tone was soft and his movements, while heavy were more cautious, as if she was as skittish as the horses in the stables. "Do you know who I am, my lady?" he asked, moving forward to shake her hand, which was unexpected.

"You are...Lord Tyrion?"

The dwarf cracked a small smile and nodded, "And you are Celia Tyrell, if I'm not mistaken, you are my betrothed?"


	7. Chivalry is Not Dead

When he first saw her, Tyrion felt whatever shred of confidence he had left wither into dust. His tone was calm, his words cordial, as not to frighten her. It seemed as though he had already startled her in a most private conversation with his squire's horse...adorable as it was, he was not deaf of ears. Her words of contempt and dislike regarded him, and while he was used to the scorn of others, it still stung a bit. He took a moment to observe her features; golden curls and few freckles upon a fair face, with lively eyes the color of the bluest ocean, the same eyes as her sister. He could imagine her smile was quite lovely, had she not been so melancholy. Why would he blame her? No willing female would bid themselves to marry the likes of _him._ Tyrion knew fully well he was nothing more than a joke, and a dwarf which did not make him the most ideal candidate for a mate.

His father was right, she was pleasing to the eye, as lovely as any virgin whore he had ever come across in all of the Seven Kingdoms. A petite frame but well enough hips to bear healthy children. However, her youth was the only thing he noticed now, and that compassion, that fire about her that he had caught a glimpse of in the stables...well, surrounded by Lannisters, he was sure in time that fire would go out... such a shame. He almost felt guilty about playing such a large role in the girl's inevitable demise, even though he had no other choice in the matter.

She could have made a fine wife and future queen, but he knew fully well it wasn't what she wanted for herself. He knew he had to be at least a little sensitive to her feelings. After all, she was far from her home and everything she knew, forced to mingle among strangers in a new place, unsure of what to say or feel.

"Do not be frightened, my lady. I am not here to scorn or judge you, nor will I rush you back to your father. I'm sure you are the only one here who can even begin to understand how ornery I feel at the moment. Then again, for you I'm sure if is much worse." Tyrion felt the urge to speak in that moment of brief silence, as introductions were out of the way and to avoid further uneasiness.

"I got tired of being paraded around like a prized pony...I felt so, suffocated. I had to get away, even for a moment."

He couldn't help but chuckle, "I can't say in that regard it will get easier. However, I do know that neither of us are fond of this situation, though it is out of our hands. We can have more in depth conversations later, as I'd like to hear your opinions on the matter and to be sure I do not cross any boundaries. For now, perhaps it is best if we get to know one another, even a little. Would you care to join me for a quick stroll? I'll return you before your father even notices. If I know my father, he has Lord Mace well busy in conversation. "

There was a hesitation, but she did agree, " I would like that, m'lord."

"Please, call me Tyrion. In this situation, there is no need for formalities. We can start by being as casual with one another as possible. Would you prefer it that way?" he asked, as he outstretched his arm for her to take, leading the walk, even though his strides were significantly shorter than his. She seemed to notice and slowed her pace, which would have humiliated him, had he not already been through enough hell for a dozen men.

"I think so, my lady is what my servants used to call my mother. My sister has called me 'Cissy' since we were young, but you may just call me by my name, Celia."

"Then that is the way it shall be. I know these lands are foreign to you, but I will try my best to make you feel comfortable here. Do you enjoy the ocean, or perhaps watching the ships take sail at the harbor in Casterly Rock?"

She made a squeamish face and he had remembered the days of traveling she had endured. "Those things sound lovely, but I think I will appreciate solid ground for a few days longer. I do enjoy a bit of dance, and I used to ride my mare through the forest paths back home. It will take a bit of getting used to I'm sure, but I think I will be alright. I do appreciate the gesture, it is most kind of you. What are things that you enjoy?"

_When I'm not sleeping away a drunken stupor, my finest moments have been with a pocketful of gold and a whore's mouth around my cock, but you probably know that already. _Despite the possible rumors, he dared not to say such things to the girl, she was already nervous as a doe, sometimes he saw a glimmer of fear in her eyes, as if he was some type of predator...the fearsome lion. He did not wish to give her any reason to think him a terribly awful human being, despite what she may have heard.

" Well, I read quite a bit...books of history and dragons and war. I also partake in a social drink or two. While I may lack many things Celia, one thing I am confident in is my intellect. I am not a daft oaf and I can promise you that in my care that even if we may never grow to have any kind of affection towards one another, I will always treat you with respect. On my word, as a Lannister. "

She seemed surprised, taken back that he had demonstrated himself as an honest, decent man. Unfortunately, Tyrion never thought of himself as the monster his family nor his people thought him to be, he did not have it in him to be so. It may have done him a bit more favor in times of war or to get himself out of tense situations. It just wasn't in his nature. As much as he despised Joffrey, he did not poison his nephew to succumb to a horrific, agonizing death. Sometimes, he thought Cersei believed it too, she was just too enamored with the notion that she emerged victorious and he was in chains.

"And I will do my best to be cordial to you. I am not skilled in these kinds of things, I was never a true lady of the court, that was always Margaery's time to shine. I suppose I should learn how to be a wife before I can even think to tackle being a queen that the people will love. However, I can tell you that I will always be fair to you Tyrion, and as honest as I can be under the circumstances."

"That is all I could ever ask, Celia."

There was a noise off in the distance, a high pitched voice. Tyrion turned towards the stony path that led to the castle and there was Margaery, waving her arms, seemingly beckoning her sister to her side.

"It seems as though you didn't go unnoticed for long," he teased with a sly smile.

The girl rolled her eyes, " I swear...she is worse than grandmother. I suppose I should go to her, before her head explodes."

Tyrion chuckled, "So I suppose I will see you, pretty and pampered at the feast this evening?"

Celia nodded and they bid a few short tidings before the blonde hurried off towards her sister, carrying her dress skirts behind her. From what he could observe, there was a bit of bantering before Margaery practically shooed her inside, along with two of his father's female servants. This would be her first public appearance at court, he was sure her father wanted her looking her best.

He assumed Tywin would expect the same of him and give him a fair warning before the festivities could begin. If it were up to him, Tyrion would spend the celebration alone in his bedchambers with a basin of amber wine at this side. However, he and his father were on very fragile terms and he knew he had to play the part, if he wanted to save his own skin.

Still, the dwarf pondered what he wouldn't give to poison every single member of the court and to see the look on their faces as they choked on their own vomit. _It wasn't entirely too late to make such arrangements_...it would free him and Celia of this wretched sentence. Still, he knew it was a foolish thought and it flew from his mind as quickly as it came, though he chuckled upon it, as he waddled all the way back to his own chambers, where he would dress like a proper Lannister and get reasonable drunk beforehand in order to tolerate the evening.


	8. Celebration

That evening, Celia was dressed in the finest crimson colored gown, her golden hair encased in a net of rubies. Her handmaidens had spent hours making sure Celia was the object of perfection, as every worthy nobleman would be in court and she had to impress. She shined in the Lannister colors, though she did not feel like a lioness, nor the future Queen of Casterly Rock. The second she took her first steps into the great feasting hall, there were so many eyes upon her, some that were familiar and some that were not. She only had so long latched to Margaery's side before she knew she had to go and sit with their father and grandmother; Olenna kept a watchful eye over her. Though Celia wasn't exactly sure if she could stand on her own, she felt like a newborn giraffe, struggling to find her footing. One slip up, and it would be the end.

Her father had paraded her about on his arm for most of the night, introducing her to every duke and lord in court. Of course, the ladies too seemed to want to get a good look at her. While she kept her pleasantries, the entire event was exhausted and by the time Lord Mace released his vice grip on her enough to let her sup, she was mentally exhausted and overwhelmed.

No one would ever understand the nerves that riled within his gut as a million butterflies tried to eat their way through his flesh. This all felt too familiar and his mind and soul was not ready for the explosion of human beings that crowded the hall. Tyrion was nearly pried from his chambers, in which he wished to remain for the evening to enjoy whatever festivities alone. He knew they all had judged him, their eyes had made sure they burned his flesh and imprinted their hate upon the dwarf for being a king slayer. He didn't know what magic Tywin had pulled, but he knew the blame was placed on Sansa for the whole event and that he was merely a misguided pawn, despite his outburst during the trial when his beloved Shae had twisted the knife firmly. Tywin had present the case as a misguidance and it was irrelevant due to her jealousy of the marriage between the Stark and the Lannister. Still, Tyrion was put on trial each and every waking moment of his life.

Soon, the young maiden had been approached by her betrothed, taking a seat beside her at the large wooden table, hosting various roasted meat and vegetables. It seemed a meal enough to feed all of King's Landing, and wine a plenty. It was the first time the two were able to sit and relax, in each other's company, without having to be introduced or speak to another noble puss. Celia had taken the bold liberty of stealing a goblet for herself, sipping it from time to time to soothe her nerves, until the warmth in her skin proved to be a far better feeling then the judgment she felt on the outside.

"Are you enjoying the festivities, m'lord?" she asked, leaning over to speak to him over the sound of the drums and fiddles that began to play.

"Fun?" he questioned as he clambered into his seat – he had obviously partook in his own fun without anyone else to witness. "I see your fun is in the same category of my own," he took note of her goblet, generously filling his. He settled in just in time for the duo to spring off, frolicking like gifted fools to the rhythm of the drums. Perhaps it was the wine that had made her so bold, for Celia found her sister Margaery approaching the table, and quickly got up, taking her hand and dragging her to the dance floor. Of course, the older sister protested, but in time they were laughing like merry gits and twirling one another around, following the movements of the crowd.

"Come now Margaery, you remember how this one goes!" Celia called out, clapping along with the others.

"Cissy you're going too fast for me to catch up!" Margaery laughed aloud.

He was mesmerized, watching the former queen dance with the future lioness – this was at least a happy occasion, for her. And that's what kept his spirits higher than they had been, remembering the pact they had agreed on hours prior. Only he could uphold such a debt, for she would forever be in his debt if she were to truly be his wife. Though the small hints of joy, for her behalf, had taken the corner of his lips; his freedom was his own and he was being rewarded for such a long, hard journey. But as his eyes locked with his father across the room, he remembered the more sinister affair that would have to unfold.

When Celia had left the table, Olenna had approached, her demeanor seemingly calm and pleasant, her eyes fixed upon him as if he was prey, distrusting. She was not called the Queen of Thorns for nothing. "You know, that is the first time I've seen my granddaughter smile since her arrival. You would do well to treat her with kindness...it's such a shame most of your lot has died off by now, we wouldn't want to repeat the same tragedy now would we?" her bitter sweetness was like a pretty dagger. Yes, Olenna knew this game and played it very well.

"Have you suggested I have had a hard hand?" he didn't' skip a beat as Olenna's threat, laced with a sweetness came to his ear, causing whatever joy drain from his face, and the goblet was firm to his lips, drawing a hefty gulp. "I can assure you, the utmost kindness will befall upon your granddaughter, but I cannot speak for the rest of the lot," he warned, letting those keen blues match the older woman's. Tyrion had never backed, nor would he now, not with a belly full of liquid confidence. He grew quiet, hair standing on end with the notion of his kin dropping like flies, filling with a deep seeded hate that focused on the stem of the glass. Whatever he felt, he wanted to lash back with the accusation still linger over his head and the old rose's words hinted at a far greater evil.

Alas, the anger had to be subsided, for the pair returned and a façade needed to be in place. Olenna had left the group, giving her falsely sweet words of encouragement and then left them in peace. Celia took a seat besides Tyrion and noticed the two of their fathers, heavily indulged in conversation, as they had been from the very start. "I say that the two of them should just go off and marry each other," she teased, her liquid confidence making her much more insolent, the fiery temper in her surfacing quickly.

It was then that Tyrion looked to Celia, he could not hide his amused grin. "Your father seems rather keen to mine," he admitted. Mace had been so far up his father's backside it had been sickening. He seemed to follow his father with whatever he seemed to choose and sat beside him like a loyal lap dog; he knew Tywin had gotten off on things like that. "They would make a lovely pair, wouldn't they?" And just as he mocked, he watched as Mace had rose, coming forth. Tyrions eyes had laid upon her goblet, knowing his future wife would have been scolded amongst lords and ladies for her insolence. His fingers were quick, plucking it away from her as he downed his own glass, shoving it on the chair beside him to play off such offenses.

"Celi-" Mace paused, looking at the dwarf as he leaned toward her, pressing his shoulder into her arm.

"Lord Mace!" Tyrion called out, patting her arm. Mace has gestured toward the goblet, glaring at Margery momentarily. "I do apologize, my Lord. I've allowed my betrothed a sip, and only a sip!" He knew the redness in her cheeks would be the end of them, but he patted her arm again. "My dear, how long were you dancing?! Your cheeks are so red."

"You should have seen me father, it's like the music back home! I enjoyed it so much, I suppose I overexerted myself. I was Margaery's dancing partner, otherwise one of the pimply squires would have asked for her hand," Celia spoke up, trying to soothe her father's suspicion.

Lord Mace didn't seem to be impressed, and that was when Margaery spoke up, " I gave her the wine, Father. If Celia is old enough to marry, she should be old enough to have a glass of wine." She took the brunt of it and she could tell that their father was disappointed, though it seemed to fare better with Margaery's fib. The elder sister gave her a small smile, as if extending the olive branch to quell their past hostilities.

It was then that some conversation emerged, mocking of the past Stark Queen among other things. Celia noticed Tyrion sunk further in his chair with each passing second, knowing as such that it was his disheveled like that had become the cause of entertainment for the Tyrells. He had added in a few quips here and there, but she could tell the man was distant. When she replied to her father, it only took a few moments and when she looked back, her future husband was gone.

"Will you excuse me for a moment? I'm feeling a bit parched from all the dancing, I think some water and fresh air will do me some good."

Any excuse to free herself from the dull musings of her family was welcome, though she had another idea in mind. She would seek out Tyrion, as she didn't know how many glasses of wine he had, if he was drunk and may be in need of her assistance? Whatever it was, she felt a pang of guilt and thought to make it right by speaking with him, even if it did little good.

After all, what could she say to a stranger?


	9. A Rose Still Has Thorns

What_ in the seven hells was wrong with him?_

Celia Tyrell was a rose indeed, she outshined every woman in court, dressed in robes of crimson, her golden curls radiant as the sun. The elder women envied her youth, and his father thought her a perfect candidate to whelp a few Lannister heirs. Who wouldn't think as such? Tyrion knew that it must have been by the grace of the gods that he was given a second chance, a chance at his proper place as a Lannister...he had been given a beautiful wife to be as well, so why did he suddenly feel ill? Why did every part of it feel so sickeningly wrong?

_Because she is a child, and you are nothing more than a drunken fool. You are no closer to winning your father's praise as you ever had been. You see the looks they give you, the taunting...the looks of disgust. You are no more than a traitor, the only reason you draw breath is because you are Tywin's son. Even Shae could not stand the sight of you.._

Yes, that was true, his pretty whore had consumed his thoughts as of late...her words in the courtroom, the humiliating details of their tryst for all of the court to hear. Even if his heart burned with hatred with what she had done, he couldn't help but desire her still...and smile whenever he pictured her smile, her reassuring words, treating him like the king he desperately wanted to be, and yet it was all a farce.

He was a joke, and nothing more. Tyrion Lannister was never meant to rule kingdoms or win wars. He did not even deserve the child he would soon wed. He was meant to die as an infant...though it seems the gods were not so kind to him.

He only hoped that Sansa had found safety...as she was truly innocent in this entire mess, as was Celia. If given the proper choice, he knew she would never give him the time of day. Could he blame her? In some disturbing sense, he knew exactly how his life would pan out. No matter how many smiles and fine gifts of jewels and silk he gave her, no matter how he treated her with kindness...she would still look at him in disgust, retch at his touch. It did not matter of the children he could give her to try and ease her pain...she would never like him, never mind grow to love him.

Did she truly think he could not see past her courtesies and false smiles? She had been trained very well.

Tyrion was content to sit there, nursing the last bit of his wine, taking in the welcome silence of the evening sky. He found comfort in his solitude, as the silence drowned out the useless gabbing of the people inside. He was alone upon the stone balcony, or so he thought. That was until, a voice as soft as a dull wind told the dwarf that he was no longer.

"M'lord? It's growing chilly...would you come back inside?"

Her pale face almost glowed in the moonlight, her eyes curious and yet sympathetic. Tyrion almost felt as though ignoring her would be easier, but he was not a cruel man. Though he was entirely bored of wallowing in everyone else's sympathy. He forced a tired grin, and while he was away from the public eye, he felt more weary than he ever had been. No longer did he need to be on his best behavior for Tywin.

"I do believe some fresh air will do me well, I appreciate the thought, my lady. If I may ask, what brings you out here?"

"Apologies, you seemed rather quiet at dinner. I just...wanted to make sure you were alright."

Tyrion couldn't help but chuckle as she stumbled over her words, and yet he knew her meaning. "I can assure you, Lady Celia, that I am quite the capable drunk."

"You seemed upset, I only hoped that I was not the cause of it."

"There is no need to worry yourself over that. I can admit that I have seen better days, but in regards to trivial affairs."

"If I may be so bold...does it have anything to do with your wife? The Lady Stark, she had fled King's Landing recently, is her absence what brings you such grief?"

Sansa... truth be told, the innocence of the young Tyrell began to show, as she was truly blind to all that had been occurring as of late. Such a blind eye could be dangerous, though no one would dare to harm her. If he had the strength to laugh, such a silly observation would have left him quite amused. Did he care about the young Stark's safety? Of course, but outside of his protection, there was nothing he could do for her now? Was her youth alluring to him then, the same youthful curiosity Celia possessed? Maybe there was a time that he had. Was it anything close to the love he once held for Shae? There was no comparison.

"My former wife I hope has found refuge far beyond these walls by now. It is no secret that I have not fared well with women. Though it is another face that haunts me, but I will not bore you such details."

"But you loved her didn't you?" she asked him, as inquisitive as a child, yet clever.

Tyrion hesitated a moment before speaking, " That I did, but it does not matter now. It is nothing you should be concerning yourself with, have you finished with your dancing?"

"My feet are sore and I think I have done all the dancing I can do. I'm afraid I'm a bit tired now."

Sleep was a temptation to the dwarf, whose mind was hazed from alcohol consumption and he held far less tolerance for the dull nonsense of the celebration inside. Neither he think he would be able to hold back his tongue if provoked. Perhaps it was best if he retired to his bedchambers a bit early.

"I do believe I may do the same, may I escort you to your chambers?" he asked. The Tyrells had been housed in the guest quarters since their arrival.

"You may, I don't mind the company," Celia replied, watching as the dwarf took her arm, leading her back into the feasting hall, walking swiftly past the crowds, towards the main corridor. It seemed as though everyone else, his family included, were so busy gabbing that they did not even see them leave.


End file.
